12 a.m. I was chatting on MSN with a bunch of people. My dad barged into the room and started yelling at me for still being online despite having parked myself here the entire day.
Okay. He didn't yell. But it was very clear and obvious that he was pissed. So I said my hasty good-byes and shut down the computer. I thought, okay, now I'll get the hell out of here, but no. He told me to stay.
So I stayed. And he gave me this long lecture about... I don't know what exactly. He was off about quite a lot of things, namely my inclination towards the Arts, my refusal to study in the Science stream (how the hell can I study in the Science stream and excel when I got 3 Bs and 1 D for all my Science subjects for the O Levels?) and the possibility that it could spell a dead end for the rest of my life; my mother's retrenchment and tightening of finances around the house; his moving to Singapore and the sacrifices he's made to live here, and how he's regretted it; how he hates his job; and my and my brother's poor academic achievements as compared to our cousins'.
I was boiling inside at first when he started on my educational stream of choice and my passion for writing. Everything he said basically led back to one point: Doing the arts is nothing but a signature on your own death warrant when you're out in the real world, looking for a job.
I really resented that. And I still do. He cited examples of his elder sister (my aunt) who used to write brilliant essays in her secondary school days, and now? So what if you can write? he said. Would that ensure you of a stable life when you're older? There are so many good writers out there and how many of them can use their talent as their main source of income?
Blah blah and blah. What he doesn't understand is that I don't plan on being just another ordinary person. No, that's not what I want for myself. There's a clear distinction between scribblers and writers: scribblers write and they're happy just writing. Writers write, they're happy just writing, and they take it a step further by doing all that they can to make a name for themselves in the literary arena.
And I plan to be a writer. Oh yes, I do. I'm not going to just sit back, hoist my legs up onto my table and relax, thinking a publishing deal is just gonna fall from the sky and straight into my lap by doing absolutely nothing. That's why I want to go to New York. That's why I don't want to attend university in Singapore. I want to box out, to break free of the clutches of a country that doesn't allow room for artistic expression and creativity simply because it's not economically sound. We have citizens thinking censorship is okay. Censorship is never okay. We want to talk about protecting kids? Well, does 'PG' not stand for 'parental guidance'? If you can't prevent your kid from watching a movie that you don't think is suitable for him or her, then I think you should take a look at your own parenting skills. Why is it that your child doesn't listen to you? Could it be because you're full of shit?
Okay, I went off on a tangent there. I was thinking about how the censorship board here censored three lesbian scenes from "The Hours" just to give it a PG rating as a PG rating would fill up more seats in the house than an R(A) rating. I was so mad when I found out. I mean, I can't go see it if it were R(A) but it's not about that. It's the whole principal of respecting the film-makers' artistic integrity. Don't butcher things you don't understand, idiots.
Anyway. Back to my father's lecture. I don't agree with his notion about graduating with an Arts degree, but I do see where he's coming from. He graduated with a degree specialising in Chinese history. He's an Arts student himself. And he's stuck with a dumb job. But I don't think it has as much to do with his field of study than it has to do with the fact that he chose to move to Singapore to live with his family, thus giving up his stable job of teaching in Taiwan.
It's, frankly, depressing that he's stuck with some stupid, no-brainer job because he's wasting his talent. I tell you, my bloody father is a bloody genius when it comes to the Chinese language. He's an exceptional teacher, though strict and rigid sometimes, but his methods are amazing.
Which is why I kept thinking of Hwa Chong Junior College. Every Singaporean knows that you can't get anymore cheena (read: Chinese) than HCJC. I don't know, I kept thinking of that goddamn place and how my dad would totally fit there, teaching Language Elective Programme (LEP) classes.
I guess I'm just idealistic. He isn't exactly young anymore. And people are fuckheads. Singapore is full of fuckheads. It was a nice fantasy while it lasted anyway.
Now, concerning my mother's retrenchment. Yes, she kena the axe a couple of months back. She would be officially leaving the company in June. So bearing that in mind, my dad was off about how his salary isn't enough to support the family.
And it's true. I know it myself. I'm the biggest spendthrift ever. My bank account got from 400+ dollars to 200+ dollars in a mere month. I'd have to do a whole shitload of adjusting to my lifestyle, and I don't know if I can do it. He was talking of selling the car. All I could think of was, "What am I going to do?"
You see, I told you I was spoilt. My dad, having lived forty-seven years, is willing to take public transport. And I, at a ripe, young age of 16, couldn't even bear the thought of taking public transport.
I really am a horrible individual.
Somehow, the talking got to my brother and I's results. School results. How we're doing worse than my cousins, things like that.
I needed none of it. Trust me, I get enough of those shit from myself. I still haven't got over getting a whopping grand total of 13 points for my L1R5 when I know I'm capable of so much better. I was reading my November entries and I couldn't believe I was online after 12 midnight during that period when I had the damn O Levels going on. It's like, what the hell was I doing, thinking I could just go into the examination hall and wing it, and expect good results?
It's so stupid. I've done so many stupid things and I just never learn from any of it. Secondary 3's finals were amazingly atrocious. I failed 5 out of 8 subjects, I cried over it and did I learn? No.
Which is why, after the talk, I went into my room, found the Mathematics hand-out on my table, and did the logarithm questions. Did a few indices thingies too but yeah, I've always hated indices so I couldn't do them.
That was at 1 a.m. I wanted to continue writing an original fic I started two early mornings ago that was inspired by Mr. Nerd saying some crap about how he wants to act bad and all, dumb stuff like that only a nerd can come up with, and somehow, I ended up doing Maths questions.
And the really cool thing is, I could do most of the questions. I freaked out though when I saw some odd fraction with an x power in this binomial sum but yeah. Doesn't matter anyway.
I wasn't pissed with me daddy then. Not anymore. It's hard to get mad at somebody who just wants what's best for you.
Still, he doesn't know what I'm capable of. He doesn't know how determined I am to show the damn world what I'm capable of. But it's okay. I don't hold it against him.
2 a.m. Got tired of doing Maths, and wasn't really sleepy yet so I decided to continue reading Slam Dunk vol. 30. Hanamichi suffered a back injury and had to sit out of the game for a bit. He was lying on the ground while his friends fussed over him, and in his mind were flashes of his short career as a basketball player, his memories and his pride and joy, and of course he thought of Haruko, the girl he's infatuated with, and how she entered his life with the simple of 'do you like basketball?'
He stood up then, faced Haruko and told her, "Yes. I like it very much. And I'm not lying to you this time."
I had shivers after that and I just had to finish the entire series. So I grabbed vol. 31 from my bookshelf and very excitedly, thumbed through the whole thing.
When I was done, I thought I would cry.
I'm serious. I had tears in my eyes. I was so touched and so moved by the characters the great Takehiko Inoue has created some ten years ago that I was actually going to cry. Why? Because Team Shohoku rocks. They beat Japan's number one high school basketball team by one point after a tough and gruelling fight. They bridged a 20-point gap, had it widened again, and bridged it again. They were down by 5 points in the last one minute. Nobody thought they would win. In fact, everyone expected them to lose when they were down by, um, 24 points at one point of time.
They beat all odds and emerged triumphant. I was just so happy, you know. After being with the characters for so long, seeing them grow and everything, you just feel a certain connection with them, as if you know them as your own friends.
My only gripe is that bloody Takehiko-sensei made them lose the third match. Reason? They were tired from the Sannoh match and had no strength left.
WHAT BULLSHIT! Team Shohoku deserves to be national champions after all that they have gone through! In the end they only made the final eight.
Bleah. But Slam Dunk is so wonderful. I love it.
3 a.m. I slept.
1 p.m. I woke up.
And I've been here ever since.
This is a really long entry. Ah, well.
Long live SLAM DUNK! WA-HOO!
Now, this is probably selfish, but I kind of want the closing of schools to be extended for another week. Reason? Channel 5 is showing the match-of-the-century show-down between Real Madrid CF and Manchester United next Wednesday at 3.55 a.m. And I want to watch it live.
If there's no school, I can watch it. If there's school, I can't.
I really want to watch the stupid match but it's such a selfish reason to hope for no school. And so shallow as well.
But I still really want to watch it. Live.